


Rookie One

by warqueenfuriosa



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Bodhi thinks about having his own family, Cute Kids, F/M, Fluff, Kids, Reader-Insert, Sweet, pretty much just saturating Bodhi Rook in tooth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warqueenfuriosa/pseuds/warqueenfuriosa
Summary: Reader's five year old son takes a shine to Bodhi and spends every waking moment following him around as Bodhi teaches him about ships, how to fix them, how to fly them. But when Reader's son becomes more and more obsessed with the Rebellion, Bodhi wonders if maybe he's not such a good influence on a young, impressionable boy after all.





	Rookie One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the request on tumblr: "Can I request a Bodhi oneshot where he’s interested in this other pilot who’s like 19 but has a son (like 5 or something) and he like gets close to with her kid."
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it and feel free to pop in on tumblr and say hi @warqueenfuriosa

No matter how many times my son visited me on base at Yavin 4, the first hour or two was always spent in shy silence. He plastered himself to my leg, tiny fingers curled into the hem of my jacket, his eyes wide as he took in his surroundings. This environment was enormous and strange and far too foreign for a little boy of five years old, so he didn’t let go of me, at least for a little while.

Until Bodhi came around. He never failed to draw my son out of his shell and make that shyness vanish.

Today, Bodhi crouched in front of my son and held out the smallest wrench he owned.

“Do you think you could help me fix something on my ship?” he said. “You can reach the places I won’t be able to.”

My son looked up at me, hesitant. “Can I, Mama?”

I smoothed back a lock of his hair and nodded. “Of course you can. Go have some fun.”

Slowly, my son reached out and accepted the wrench. Then he slipped his hand into Bodhi’s waiting palm.

I watched them go, Bodhi so tall he had to walk slightly bent over to hold onto my son’s hand. To see my son, my little boy, in the middle of a military operation, even on a slow day, sent a cold jolt of fear through my chest, but I smothered it, pushed it down into silence. I knew how much my son looked forward to visits like this. I knew, given enough time, he would be curious about everything that crossed his path, ships and droids, pilots and mechanics. It was only for a day or two, a rare treat, and it would make my son happy. That’s all I cared about.

I stayed outside Bodhi’s ship, lingering at the doorway, close enough for my son if he needed me, I told myself. But he didn’t need me. Petal by petal, like a flower, my son opened up around Bodhi, thrilled at the prospect of being helpful, crawling into spaces of the ship that no adult could ever fit into. My son took to this life as readily as I did, making himself at home in the workings of a ship in no time at all.

I couldn’t help noticing the way Bodhi’s hand always rested lightly at my son’s back, his fingers touching my son’s shoulder as he showed my son which bolt to tighten and which circuit to replace.

I would always be uneasy with my son on base for any length of time, even though I loved seeing him, loved having him near, but at least now, with Bodhi’s steady guidance, I knew he was in good hands.

***

By lunch, there wasn’t an ounce of reservation anywhere in my son’s body. He scrambled in and out of the ship’s thousands of hiding places as if it was as natural as breathing. His face was streaked with grease and his hair clung to his sweat-slick forehead. Bodhi was just as filthy but at least he was wearing coveralls to save his clothes.

I knocked on the ship’s hull. “Time for lunch, grease monkeys.”

My son bounced up to me, tugging on my jacket. “Mama, I fixed the ship’s compaciter!”

Bodhi smiled faintly from where he sat on the floor, legs folded up beneath him, scrubbing his hands clean on a rag. “Flux capacitor,” he corrected. “And he really did do it all by himself.”

“Pretty soon,” my son said, chin tilted up. “I’ll be able to fly my own ship.”

I swallowed and pasted a smile into place for his sake at that terrifying thought. “Until then, you’ll need food to stay strong.”

“But we can come back later, right?”

I hesitated. “Bodhi has a lot to do, sweetie.”

“I don’t mind,” Bodhi replied. “I like the company. And he’s been far more help than most droids anyway.”

“Bodhi,” I said softly as I covered my son’s ears with both hands. “You’re not really getting anything done, are you?”

“Mama,” my son sighed. “I can still hear you.”

Bodhi pushed himself to his feet and came to the door, stooped at the shoulders to keep from hitting his head on the ceiling of the ship.

“Brand new flux capacitor, remember?”

“Now you’re just being polite.”

He shrugged. “I’ll make up the work later.”

“Are you sure?”

In response, Bodhi scooped up my son and swung him onto his shoulders. My son squealed with laughter, grinning from ear to ear, arms wrapped around Bodhi’s neck, chin resting on top of Bodhi’s head.

Bodhi bent at the knees to look me in the eyes. “He’s no problem at all. I promise.”

He stepped clear of the ship, took my son’s hands and held his arms out to the side like wings.

“Where in the galaxy would you like to go, rookie?” he said.

“To the mess hall!” my son declared, with no shyness or reservation whatsoever.

“To get yourselves cleaned up first,” I said from behind them.

Bodhi glanced back at me and nodded. “Slight detour, rookie. We’ll have to make a pit stop at the refresher on our way to the mess hall.”

“’Kay,” my son chirped.

“Remember to keep an eye out for enemy vessels.”

“Copy that!”

“Copy that what?” Bodhi said.

My son faltered, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Bodhi gave him a playful jostle.

“What’s the call sign?” he said.

My son frowned, searching for the right answer.

I curved a hand over his back and stood on tiptoe. “Rogue One,” I whispered.

“Copy that, Rogue One!” he said, beaming with pride.

Bodhi and my son took off and I trailed after them as they pretended to fly out of the docking bay, through the corridors of the base, shooting down imaginary Stormtroopers and TIE fighters during their “flight” to the mess hall.

***

By the end of the day, my son couldn’t sit still for two seconds at a time. When a mechanical droid nearly ran me over, my son took advantage of the momentary distraction and disappeared into the chaos of the base. He slipped between ships in the docking bay, skipped past a handful of pilots, and was gone. Just like that. And I could only pray that he didn’t find his way onto some outbound ship and get carted off-world before I could find him again.

As I searched the docking bay and the landing pad, I spotted Bodhi seated on a stack of crates pushed to one side of the room, datapad balanced on one knee.

“Bodhi!” A spark of hope took root in my chest. If anyone had an idea where my son might have disappeared to, it would be him. “Have you seen…?”

I trailed off as Bodhi pointed downward. Tucked behind the crate was my son, fast asleep, curled up in Bodhi’s poncho, practically swimming in the folds of fabric that engulfed him. A slight smudge of grease was smeared on one cheek and his shirt had ridden up to expose his round stomach, one arm flung over his face.

I let out a breath of relief as I knelt beside him, brushed his cheek clean and tugged his shirt down again.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Bodhi said softly, staring at his datapad.

“Do what?”

He gestured to the bay. “Have a child in the middle of all this. I’d be a nervous wreck.”

I slid onto the crate beside him. “I _am_ a nervous wreck.”

His gaze flickered over my face, so solemn and serious, as if he was trying to decide whether or not I was telling the truth.

“You don’t look like it,” he said at last.

“Part of being a parent, I guess. As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I’ve been terrified ever since. But…” I glanced back over my shoulder at my son. “No matter how scared I get, I know that having him was the best decision of my life.”

“Do you ever…” Bodhi lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “…think about leaving the Rebellion? For him?”

“Every minute of every day.”

“You choose to stay though.”

 I hesitated, studying my hands. “Do you have any kids?”

“No, but…”

I cast a sideways glance at him, bumped his knee with mine, encouraging him to continue.

“But what?”

“I’d like to. Someday. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Still seems far away, right? Like it’s hard to imagine?”

“Sometimes it feels like it won’t happen at all.”

“Why?”

Bodhi’s gaze dropped as he fiddled with his datapad. “I’m not even seeing anyone. Haven’t had time with…everything that’s been going on.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as the tips of Bodhi’s ears turned the brightest shade of red. I’d known him for a little while, heard about his heroism on Scarif that he still seemed uncomfortable with, saw the way people looked at him when he walked through a room. The only reason Bodhi Rook was still single was not because no one was interested. It was because he was completely oblivious to the sea of admirers he left in his wake everywhere he went.

“I could set you up with someone,” I said.

He coughed and rubbed at the back of his neck, looking away from me. “No, that’s really not…not necessary.”

“What about that really cute mechanic…what’s her name? Runali, I think? She goes all moony-eyed whenever you’re in the room.”

He glanced at me, startled. “She does not.”

I leaned into him, stifling my laughter against his shoulder so I didn’t wake my son. “Oh yes she does. I could tell her you said hi. She’d probably faint on the spot.”

“Stop,” Bodhi pleaded in a whimper.

I pressed a kiss to his cheek and his skin was burning against my lips. He went stock still, eyes wide and unblinking, staring straight ahead.

“I’m just teasing, Bodhi,” I said. “I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to. But I do have a point I’m trying to make here.”

He cleared his throat, shifted, and didn’t quite look at me when he inclined his head in my direction.

“You do?”

“Sometimes you don’t see it coming.”

And now Bodhi did look at me, his blush fading as the seriousness settled in.

“Suddenly,” I continued, “your life is turned upside down. And there you are, holding your child in your arms for the first time. They look up at you, expecting you to take care of them, protect them…”

My son let out a sleepy sigh. Bodhi tucked his poncho a little tighter around my son, and when his hand came to rest on my son’s chest, I recognized the gesture.

I’d done the same thing thousands of times before, feeling the soothing, steady cadence of my son’s heartbeat beneath my palm, reminding me that his fragile little life was still going strong in this massive galaxy that could swallow him whole.

“He lost his father to this fight,” I said. The words were still raw and tender, a scar that hadn’t healed and never would no matter how many years had passed.

Bodhi’s gaze flicked up to me, brown eyes soft and dark with sympathy as his fingers drifted across my knee. “I’m sorry.”

I placed my hand over his. “I don’t want my son to end up where we are, Bodhi. He’s got that itch to fly, same as you and me, and I won’t – can’t – stop him from following that dream.” I paused and my voice dropped lower, coarse and small. “That’s why I choose to stay. I’ll do whatever I can to keep him happy. I want my son to grow up in peace, not the middle of a war.”

I didn’t realize I’d started crying until Bodhi brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. I flinched in surprise and glanced away, swiping at my face.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Didn’t mean to get emotional.”

“Your son,” Bodhi said, so, so softly, “must be proud to have you for a mother.”

I managed a wet, shaky laugh. “Could you remind him of that the next time he’s in trouble and he thinks I’m being mean for punishing him?”

“He’ll understand eventually. He knows you love him.”

The last sliver of my composure crumbled and I screwed my eyes shut. Bodhi slid an arm around me, the width of his hand resting warm and light across my back as he turned me towards him. I melted at the contact, at how good it felt to lean on someone else for a change. For a few precious moments, I didn’t have to be strong.

Then I sucked in a breath to prepare myself and pulled back, palms pressed to my eyes in an attempt to regain control. Bodhi’s hand stayed at my back, reassuring and solid.

“You have nothing to apologize for, you know,” Bodhi said.

I blew out a breath. “Shouldn’t have fallen apart on you like that though.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

I smiled and rested my head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I’d better get the little monster to bed. He’s had a long day.”

I stood and Bodhi stood with me.

“May I?” he said, gesturing to my sleeping son.

“Bodhi, you’ve already done so much…”

His hand curved around my elbow and skimmed down my arm, light as a feather but familiar despite the bare tremor of hesitation, until finally his fingers laced with mine.

“I want to,” he said, shifting towards me to emphasize his words. “Please? Call it practice for if…when…I have my own kids.”

And then I was suddenly aware of how _close_ he was, the heated pressure of his thumb across my knuckles, the unguarded earnestness in his eyes that made him look achingly vulnerable. A small tendril of fear curled around my heart and squeezed as a single realization blossomed in my mind. I didn’t want the war to touch him either, just like I didn’t want the war to touch my son.

I nodded, unable to speak after that revelation. I kept everyone on base at a distance, co-workers and nothing more, not even friends. I worried enough about my son. I couldn’t afford to worry about anyone else. But Bodhi was sneaking past my defenses and it seemed the worry for him had already been planted.

Bodhi picked up my son, poncho and all. My son snuggled against Bodhi’s neck with a murmur, his arms draped over Bodhi’s shoulders. For the second time that day, I watched Bodhi carrying my son, watched the complete and unwavering trust my son had in him, watched the way he kept my son safe.

I opened the door to my quarters and Bodhi eased my son onto the bed. My hand settled on Bodhi’s shoulder for a moment in a silent gesture of gratitude before I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled my son’s shoes off. Bodhi untangled his poncho from my son’s sleep-soft arms and legs, while I tucked my son in and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

As Bodhi turned to leave, poncho bunched under one arm, I caught his hand.

“I can never thank you enough,” I said.

He squeezed my hand and ducked his head. “I just wish things could be different for you. Both of you.”

“My son smiles when you’re around, Bodhi. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

He paused, then slid towards me half an inch and kissed the top of my head. I curled my fingers into his shirt and closed my eyes, leaning into him.

My hand fell away as he walked to the door, head bowed, shoulders curved in on himself, and I wondered how one man, one human being, could have a heart so big.

***

“Mama?” my son said the next morning. He sat on my bed, feet kicking back and forth in the air as I wrestled his shirt over his head.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I like Bodhi. He’s my favorite pilot.”

I pressed my lips together to hide a smile. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

My son’s head popped through the collar of his shirt, his hair fuzzy from static electricity. He nodded, his expression serious.

“Do you like him, too, Mama?”

“Yes, I do. He’s been very kind to us.”

“When I grow up, I’m going to be a pilot just like him and help lead the Rebellion.”

In his eagerness, my son squirmed right off the bed and I caught him, peppering his face with kisses until he shrieked with laughter.

“Let’s hope the Rebellion is long gone by the time you grow up, young man,” I said.

My son wrinkled his nose with disappointment. Quickly, I set him on his feet before he could get really upset.

“How about we go flying for a little bit before I have to take you home?” I said.

In a flash, the disappointment vanished and my son was already half way to the door.

“Can I go in Bodhi’s ship?”

“What’s wrong with my x-wing?”

My son shook his head and tugged on my hand. “Bodhi’s ship is bigger.”

“Fine, but we have to make sure he isn’t busy first, okay?”

Before I could finish, my son was sweeping down the corridors, arms spread to either side, pilot of his own imaginary Rebel vessel.

***

My son came running at full speed into the docking bay and spotted Bodhi talking to Cassian near the landing pad. He headed straight for Bodhi like a missile locked onto its target, darting through the crowded bay. And when my son called to him, Bodhi raised his head. A smile blossomed across his face as he crouched down, held his arms out and my son barreled into him.

“Mama said you’d take us flying,” my son said, grinning up at Bodhi as if he’d hung every moon and every star in the galaxy.

Bodhi glanced at me. “She did?”

“No,” I said. “I did not. I told him we’d ask if you were busy but that little detail seems to have conveniently slipped his mind.”

Bodhi turned to Cassian. “Can you spare me for a few hours?”

Cassian’s gaze shifted down to my son. “I don’t know. He looks awfully young to be recruited for flight training.”

My son frowned, pulled himself up to his full height, which wasn’t much.

“Bodhi says I’m a wookie pilot already.”

I couldn’t correct him, not when I was trying so hard not to laugh outright while my son looked dead serious. And Bodhi couldn’t correct him either as he bowed his head, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

But somehow, Cassian managed to keep a straight face.

“In that case,” he said. “Bodhi, you’d better get him in the air as soon as possible.”

***

My son scrambled into Bodhi’s ship ahead of us and before he could take the pilot’s seat, Bodhi hooked an arm around his middle.

“Hold on a minute,” he said. “You don’t have the gear for space travel.”

“Yes I do!”

Bodhi set my son on the ground and pointed to the cargo hold.

“It gets cold up there,” he said. “Take a look in the open crate back there.”

For a split second, my son didn’t move, wide eyed with curiosity. Then he darted to the hold and found the crate on the floor, latches unlocked so he could flip the lid open without any trouble.

I glanced at Bodhi but he merely shrugged and gave me a shy little smile.

“Mama, look!”

My son was wearing a poncho and goggles that matched Bodhi’s in perfect miniature form. He pulled his goggles down and they nearly slipped right off his nose.

“Now you’re ready for space travel,” Bodhi said.

“And the Empire will never recognize me,” my son said. “I can be a spy _and_ a pilot!”

I knew it was for fun. I couldn’t imagine how Bodhi had managed to obtain gear like this on short notice. But my smile faltered anyway at seeing my son, my _baby_ , so eager to join this fight, to be a pilot, a spy, anything that would put him into the heart of the Rebellion.

I didn’t hear Bodhi say my name at first, didn’t notice him studying me with concern, until he touched my elbow and I startled.

“Did I do something wrong?” he whispered. “If I crossed a line –“

“No,” I rushed in, forcing my tone to be lighter than I felt. “No, Bodhi, you did nothing wrong.” I gestured at my son who had found a small hat with ear flaps in the crate and was busy tugging it onto his head. “How did you manage to pull this off? Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

It almost seemed as if he wouldn’t answer, the way he was looking at me like he wanted to push, to find out what I wasn’t telling him. In the end, he shook his head.

“It doesn’t take much to alter a regular poncho,” he replied. “The goggles and hat were a little harder to find but…” He slid into the pilot’s seat and lifted my son into his lap. “It was worth it. Never know when I’ll get to see the little wookie again,” he added with a smile.

***

My son fired off a volley of questions about the ship’s controls, about take off, about the base that grew smaller and smaller below us until it vanished into the black.

“What does this button do? And this lever? What’s that blinky dot? Where’s the beeping noise coming from?”

And Bodhi answered every question with an endless amount of patience.

Once there was only empty space all around us and nothing to run into, Bodhi surrendered the controls to my son and gave him free reign. But his hands were still there, sneaking in under my son’s arms as he made minor adjustments to prevent the ship from stalling or the engine from cutting out, like a safety net, to ensure we would always stay flying and never fall.

Bodhi stole a quick glance in my direction then patted my son on the back.

“I hid some cookies in the cargo hold,” he said. “Think you can find them?”

“Yep!” My son jumped off Bodhi’s lap, footsteps clattering on the metal floor of the ship as he hurried to the hold.

After a handful of alterations to the console, Bodhi focused his attention on me.

“Are you okay?” he said.

I didn’t respond at first and shifted in my chair to watch my son searching through the ship, climbing over crates, his little hands darting into crevices and hiding places he’d learned from the day before when he’d been working with Bodhi.

“If I’d known he would say that,” Bodhi continued, “I wouldn’t have done it. I swear.”

I shook my head, brushed away an invisible speck of dust on the knee of my pants. “He _worships_ you, Bodhi. He’ll always follow in your footsteps.”

Bodhi’s hands went still on the console and when he turned to look at me, I saw my own unease mirrored in his eyes. Then his hands resumed their patrol of the console, a touch to a knob here, a nudge of a lever there, but the ship was flying straight and true and smooth. It needed no correcting.

“He reminds me of Jedha,” Bodhi said, more breath than words, more heartbreak than reminiscence.

I was silent, waiting. When he didn’t go on, I reached over and took his hand away from the console to stop his incessant movements, his ceaseless fidgeting. He let out a slow, shaky breath.

“I used to race with other little boys through the streets,” he said. “Pretending we were pilots. I used to dream of belonging to something bigger than myself and look where it got me.”

“Right where you’re needed the most.”

He huffed a dry, humorless laugh. “Showing another little boy how to take the same path I did? Caught in the middle of a war and scared to death? I don’t think so.”

“Bodhi,” I said, closing both of my hands over his now. “If I believed you weren’t a good influence on my son, do you think I’d let you anywhere near him?”

Bodhi opened his mouth then closed it again. “No.” He paused, hesitating before he finally continued. “I don’t want him to end up where we are any more than you do.”

A small hand appeared between the seats, presenting a cookie. My son balanced the cookie carefully on my knee then placed another cookie on the console for Bodhi before he returned to the cargo hold.

“As much as I hate to admit it,” I said. “It’s his decision to make. Not mine. Not yours. Even though I wish it was.”

Bodhi said nothing as his gaze slid away from me and even though he didn’t let go of my hand, I could feel him drifting with his own resolve.

“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t do that.”

He scrubbed at a spot on the console with his thumb. “What?”

“You’re thinking about taking yourself out of the picture for my son’s sake. As if my son would be better off without you.”

“It makes sense, considering – “

“No,” I said a little sharper than I’d intended. “No,” I repeated, more gently. “Do you have any idea what that would do to him?”

Now Bodhi did look at me, dark eyes filled with apology.

“Focus his attention somewhere else?” he offered.

“He would be _heart broken_. And then he would take the same route he’d already decided on anyway.”

“How do you know that? It’s his decision, like you said.”

“I know because he’s my son and he’s been blessed with a generous helping of stubborn determination from both of his hard-headed parents. You’ve seen how he gets when he’s made up his mind to fly with you.”

The smallest, faintest smile touched the corner of Bodhi’s mouth. I slid a little further off my seat in an effort to get closer to him as I lowered my voice so my son didn’t hear.

“There is no part of this galaxy that has been untouched by war. I can’t hide him from it. The only way I can protect him is by teaching him how to grow up into a kind man who fights for the good in his heart. And in my opinion, the best person to teach him that is you.”

There was no blush on Bodhi’s face but the way he gripped my hand like he was drowning, like I’d just handed him the most precious gift he’d ever received was more than enough.

“Mama?”

I released Bodhi’s hand as my son entered the cockpit rubbing at one eye with his palm, blinking slow and sleepy.

“Hey, sweetie,” I said, combing my fingers through his tousled hair. “Getting tired?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Can I sit with you?”

I pulled him onto my lap, sliding his goggles off as he tucked his head beneath my chin. Within seconds he was fast asleep.

“I can take him home from here,” Bodhi said. “If you want. Since we’re already in the air I mean. I’d just need coordinates.”

We were close, less than ten minutes from where my son stayed with my parents on a quiet jungle moon. But with my son asleep in my arms, ten minutes seemed like such a painfully short amount of time.

“Some of his things are still on base,” I said.

“I could make an extra trip when I’m on a supply drop…”

I smiled at him as I rested my cheek against the top of my son’s head. “It’s an excuse, Bodhi.”

“Oh,” he said, then again as understanding spread across his face. “ _Oh._ Right.”

“Give us a few more minutes?”

He nodded and ducked his head, resumed his fiddling at the console.

“You were right,” he said at last.

“About what?”

“I _was_ thinking about taking myself out of the picture. Staying away, for your son’s sake.”

“And now? Do you still think that way?”

His hands stopped, palms flat across his knees. “No. I don’t.”

“So…you’ll stick around?”

There was that same vulnerable softness in his eyes that made me ache all over again. “I’ll stick around.”

I shifted my son on my lap, reached over and twined my fingers with Bodhi’s, our hands linked between the seats.

***

By the time Bodhi had returned to base, my son was wide awake again, wiggling in my lap as he watched Bodhi handling the controls. As soon as the ship touched down, my son slipped out of my lap and headed for the door. I caught the collar of his poncho and he boomeranged back to me.

I rose from my seat, put my hands on his shoulders, and turned him around to face Bodhi.

“What do you say to Bodhi?” I said.

“Thank you for taking me flying,” my son said.

“Thank you for helping me fix my ship,” Bodhi replied.

My son beamed when he looked up at me, glowing like a star, he was so pleased. I steered my son towards the door but before he could jump down, he darted around me and ran to Bodhi. He threw his arms around Bodhi’s knees with such enthusiasm that Bodhi had to catch himself on the pilot’s headrest.

“What was that for?” Bodhi said.

My son tipped his head back with a grin.

“’Cause you’re the best pilot ever. Mama likes you, too. She said so.”

Heat flared across my face when Bodhi met my gaze, eyebrows raised, and I knew I couldn’t hide it. I pried my son off of Bodhi and nudged him towards the door.

“No more cookies for you, sweetie,” I said. “All that sugar makes you talk way too much.”

“But Mama – “

“Time to go.”

I picked up my son, preparing to step out of the ship, when Bodhi said my name. Not a shout, just a request, just loud enough for me to hear. I stopped and my son slid to the floor. I pulled him close as if he was a shield, as if I could hide behind him and ignore the feelings blossoming in my chest that I hadn’t allowed to see the light for so long.

I didn’t move as Bodhi’s footsteps approached behind me.

“Did you mean that?” he said.

I closed my eyes, my fingers tightening in my son’s poncho. Despite his squirming and whining, I didn’t let go, couldn’t let go, but not because he would disappear the moment I wasn’t watching him. He gave me something to hold onto, to ground myself, my anchor as I floated, weightless and trembling in territory I thought I’d never find myself in again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. But my attempt at faking it was butchered by my wobbly voice and the weakness of my tone.

Bodhi had inched closer now, standing directly behind me, his fingers brushing the back of my hand.

“Yes you do,” he whispered.

I should have kept walking. I should have kept my back to him so I didn’t see the way he was watching me, the dark, dark brown of his eyes and the feather light touch of his fingers.

But I did turn around. I did look at him. And all I wanted to do was lean into him like I had before.

“Bodhi,” I said, a mere breath in that pause between us. “This isn’t a good idea.”

Hurt. Only a flash of it but it was too much, knowing I’d put it there in Bodhi’s eyes. His fingers faltered and nearly fell away from my hand. Then he curled his fingers over mine and there was confidence in his grip, in the way his thumb nestled in the middle of my palm, the same confidence he held when he was monitoring the controls of a ship in flight.

“I’ve had plenty of terrible ideas, believe me,” he said. “This isn’t one of them. I’m sure of it.”

I felt myself drifting towards him, my forehead nearly brushing his chin. My son twisted out of my hold with a whimper.

“Mama, you’re _squishing_ me,” he said.

I tore my attention away from Bodhi to keep an eye on my son and make sure he didn’t wander off. As soon as I wasn’t looking at Bodhi, as soon as I wasn’t maintaining eye contact, I could breathe again and the butterflies in my veins, in my stomach, trembling all the way to the tips of my fingers, blew away like smoke.

Then Bodhi’s fingers trailed over the curve of my neck, his thumb tracing the length of my jawline. I went still and my gaze so, so slowly tracked up to his.

“How can you look at me like that?” I said, my voice broken and small.

He frowned slightly, confused. “Like what?”

“Like you’re not scared. Because I’m terrifi – “

The word died on a hiccup in my throat and I clutched at Bodhi’s shirt as I continued to drift closer and closer to him. I’d come to rely on him so much more than I’d realized, not only for my son but for the reassurance of his presence, for the hope he carried on his shoulders despite losing everything he’d ever known.

Bodhi’s palm settled against my cheek, a broad expanse of warmth. His other hand skimmed over my hip and came to rest at my waist so lightly I could barely feel him. I tipped my chin up, touching my forehead to his.

“I’m a nervous wreck,” he said. “You know that.”

I let out a shaky little laugh. “We’re a mess, Bodhi.”

And the way he smiled so completely, so perfectly, made him look lighter than I’d ever seen him before. He brushed his nose against mine and my mouth hovered less than an inch away from his for only a second. His hand slid from my waist to the small of my back as he kissed me, the softest suggestion sharpened by the scent of engine oil and Jedha spices.

I stood on tiptoe, tugged at his shirt, needing to have him as close as possible even though there was no space left between us anymore. He stumbled forward a step, one arm locked all the way around me as he put out a hand against the ship to steady himself.

Then there was nothing soft about him as his teeth grazed my bottom lip and his fingertips buried between the spaces of my ribs. The taste of his desperation was raw, burning, as he kissed me bold and open mouthed, as if he would never kiss me again, a first kiss and a last kiss all at once.

“Ew,” my son said.

Bodhi and I snapped apart, my hand covering my mouth, my body on fire at every point Bodhi had touched me. Bodhi turned away, running his hands over his face.

“That’s _gross_ ,” my son pointed out.

Before I could reply, Baze appeared at the ship’s door. He swept my son over one shoulder, my son’s legs flailing in the air in protest.

“Put me down!” he said.

“How about we say hello to a Jedi?” Baze replied.

My son froze. “Really?”

“No.”

My son sagged with disappointment.

“But the way he never stops talking about the Force, we’ll say he’s close enough to a Jedi for now.”

Baze nodded in my direction, glanced at Bodhi with a faint, gruff smile and carried my son off.

A heartbeat of silence. A pause crackling so loud with the distance between Bodhi and me. Then Bodhi angled in beside me and wrapped an arm around my waist.

“I have to go,” I said, making no move to leave.

“You could drop him off a little later, couldn’t you?”

I turned to hook my arms around Bodhi’s neck with a kiss to the hollow below his ear.

“I’ve already kept him longer than I was supposed to.”

Bodhi hesitated and pulled back far enough to look at me. “Is this…you know.”

“What?”

“An excuse? Because it seemed like you wanted to run away earlier and if you do – “

I brushed my thumb over his bottom lip and he fell silent.

“This is not an excuse,” I said. “I promise.”

“So…you’ll stick around?”

I placed my hand against his cheek and looked him in the eyes, his impossibly dark brown eyes full of vulnerability, of hope, that would always make me ache.

“I’ll stick around.”

Bodhi glanced at the door then back to me. “Chirrut can talk for a long time.”

“Bodhi,” I said in a warning tone.

“Just a few more minutes?”

And this was new, the pleading in his eyes, the wheedling in his tone, the flex of his fingertips begging me to stay, a newness I could get used to.

“Five minutes,” I said. “And that’s it.”

Bodhi closed the ship’s door with one hand as he pressed the sweetest smile of a kiss to my lips.

***

“How is it possible,” I muttered, “to misplace a child as many times as I do?”

My x-wing was warmed up and ready to leave. My son’s things were packed and stowed in the cockpit. But my son was nowhere in sight. He’d been by my side as I ran the pre-flight check, making it very clear the entire time that he was _not_ ready to leave the base because he was having too much fun.

Then, as I made one final adjustment to the left engine, my son was gone. Again.

This time, I headed straight for Bodhi’s ship first. My son might be sneaky but he wasn’t secretive about where he preferred to spend his time these days.

And there was Bodhi and my son, standing at the door to his ship, both dressed in their matching ponchos, goggles, and hats.

“Bodhi’s going to take me home!” my son said, bouncing on his toes.

I crossed my arms as my gaze slid over to Bodhi. His shoulders rose up and he smiled.

“I said I’d ask first.”

“Sure,” I said. “That’s why you’re already geared up.”

“It’s been raining at your parents’ house for the past three…”

He trailed off, eyes wide, and his gaze slid sideways. He turned aside to hide his whispered obscenity from my son.

“Bodhi,” I said. “How do you know where my parents live?”

“I told him,” my son said, pleased with himself. “I remembered the coordinates for home and everything.”

“Just a tiny bit off,” Bodhi said, gesturing with an index finger and thumb to indicate how much.

“Some spy you would make,” I said, tugging my son’s hat down over his eyes until he shoved it back with a grin. “I take it there were cookies involved in this?”

Again, Bodhi’s shoulders hitched towards his ears. Guilty. “Only a few.”

“That means there’s probably an entire package of cookies in that tummy.” I poked at my son’s stomach and he doubled over with laughter, attempting to wiggle away from me. I pulled him close, my hands on his shoulders, his back against my knees as I faced Bodhi again.

“Are you sure you have time to cart my son all over the galaxy, anywhere he needs to go?”

Bodhi fiddled with a small hole in the edge of his poncho. “It doesn’t happen all the time. Cassian promised to cover for me so I won’t be needed until an assignment this afternoon.”

“Please, Mama?” my son said. “Please?”

When I didn’t respond right away, my son’s expression changed, morphed into that pleading, puppy-eyed look I knew too well. I glanced at Bodhi and the same expression was on his face too, coaxing me into saying yes with just one look. I never did have much willpower when it came to that look and now I had it two fold.

“Fine,” I said. “Bodhi can take you home.”

My son wasted no time in climbing into the pilot’s seat. Bodhi held out his hand to me as I stepped into the ship.

“Is this going to be a regular occurrence now?” I said. “Ganging up on me?”

“Maybe,” he replied, smiling that light, sweet smile again.

He stepped into the ship after me, closed the door and kissed my shoulder as he passed. Bodhi picked up my son, slid into the pilot’s seat, and put my son on his lap again. He whispered something in my son’s ear and my son’s eyes brightened.

“Rookie One, pulling away!”


End file.
